


Just out of step

by Wilkins0n15



Series: How to build a home [2]
Category: USWNT - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20410879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilkins0n15/pseuds/Wilkins0n15
Summary: Kelley O’Hara “has known Tobin Heath for forever. Spent over of half of our life time cultivating crimes and misdemeanours at her side, and for whatever rhyme or reason, has always taken the blame.”But it’s Tobin and Christen’s wedding so she’d be damned if she didn’t stand beside them. Until Emily says, “Thirty-seven actually,” hoping the line is much better. “Wanna help me look for the last five?”





	1. Do you think they know yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Just think how fun it’d be to write a love story.

Kelley O’Hara “has known Tobin Heath for forever. Spent over of half of our life time cultivating crimes and misdemeanours at her side, and for whatever rhyme or reason, I’ve always taken the blame. But that parts not important yet. We met in a hotel room with the rounded cheeks of youth, smiles so wide and a glint in our eyes that nearly always ended in the triumph of some riotous acts.”

She finds it only fitting when she asked her to speak up, to lay witness to the act of her two friends all grown up. And she’s used to this by now, the weddings, though standing up for Tobin Heath at her own. One that isn’t being held in a drive though chapel, is a whole other thing. Maybe it’s because she finds her gaze falling to blonde hair, hazel eyes, or whatever shade of brown they call it, and a soft grin you can’t tear from her lips no matter how hard you’ve tried. She shakes it all from her mind, with a laugh a little too loud, a little too big for her small frame.

“Tobin will you tell you, with that easy smile we can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard we tried, and believe me we tried. That she knows from the first hello that she’ll know you forever. Which is bullshit,” she winks at the crowd, “but I do have to say it’s come in handy once or twice on the dance floor.” The laugh is gentle as it rolls through the crowd, but she cringes with nose wrinkled towards the table nearest theirs. “Sorry Mrs. Heath I’ll try to keep the swearing to a minimum. Mr. Press, Cody, sir... I’d apologize to you too but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you say worse.” 

She’s used to sideline interviews, tunnel press and weddings she didn’t have to speak at. But it’s Tobin and Christen’s wedding so she’d be damned if she didn’t stand beside them. And she waits for a nod from Cody, and a wave of the hand from Cindy before carrying on with her speech.

“If you had asked me when I was 15 if I was going to be giving a speech at her wedding. I’d have laughed and said I wouldn’t miss that mess. I would’ve said that there was no way in hell we’d find her a girl crazy enough to tie her down. But here we are, and it’s with Christen somehow.” She pauses to keep the tears at bay, hold onto her nerves and find the will to carry on. “I met Christen in a dorm room, my sophomore year at Stanford. Played beside her on every field and level, and never thought she’d get it together enough to tie Tobin down, sorry to say Press. But you two were opposites in every way at the beginning. Where you were calm, she was restless. For every invitation to dance, drink too much or prank the others that you turned down, Tobin was by my side, egging me on. And I know you all think she was would just a tag along, but Tobin’s the instigator for all my crimes.” She hates that Tobin just shrugs, like it’s not that big of a surprise. “Where she wandered, crashing on all of our couches and floors. You were constant, and calm. a beacon for us all to remember that even in the chaos of travel. There could be a person we called home.” She falters at the tears in Christen’s eye, watches how she smiles. “You’ve listened to me cry over missed starts, and new assignments I never thought I could learn. Answered the phone after one too many shots. Picked me up from dingy bars, and questionable diners from the start. If you’d asked me if I would ever think I’d be standing up at yours and Tobin’s wedding. I’d say each one of you were crazy.”

The crowd shuffles through their meals, reaching to fill wine glasses and record what little she has to say.

“I hate to say I was wrong but I guess that’s pretty obvious now that I’m standing here. You two have grown up in ways I don’t have enough time to say. So I’ll say that from your first hello, you’re welcome for the introduction by the way. I knew that you two would find some way to make it work.” And she hates how confident the words sound. “I’ve watched you both fight through such deep lows, and missed connections with people I think we all knew were just stepping stones on your way to now. I watched you both grow up on either side of me, until the moment came when neither of you needed me. I’ve watched you build a home, even though I didn’t think Tobin knew what one of those were.” The crowd jeers, yelling nomad and Hobogan. “I watched both of you grow up enough to love each other. And while Tobin says she knew from the first handshake, I’d say I knew since the pali blues. You’ve surprised me Press, first when you ran away to Sweden, next when you scored two goals in your first cap. And lastly when you called me to say that maybe you were in love with Tobin. It was surprising because neither of you hid that very well.” She tries to hold the laugh in, let’s it turn to a sigh. “You’re the only person I’ve ever seen Tobin willingly sit still for. and not out of obligation but because of her devotion to know everything about you.” And if her eyes look up to a blonde haired girl, she brushes it off like she’s meaning to pause. “Tobin used to call me, when she was in Paris or jetting setting around to whom ever would house her for a night. She’d call me and say that she spoke to you, learned something new about you. She’d work it into the conversation and just let it hang in the air. You’re the only thing Tobin Heath has talked about more than soccer.” And the laughs ring freely from the crowd, rumbling over her words.

“I know I usually take the blame for all the stupid things Tobin and I have done. but she’s always the instigator. so Christen when you were a mess over Vero and I showed up with too many bottles of wine in the middle of the night? I hate to say that it was at Tobin’s daring. When we eventually passed out just after you said you’d never get married. I woke up and called her, told her to work it out. So obviously I’m the reason we’re here, from introductions and egging them on. I’ll take payment in the form of naming your first born.” 

“No way, no how is that going to happen O’Hara.” Tobin’s voice is thick, like she has to force the words out.

“We’ll see Heath, we’ll see.” And if she turns to find hazel eyes, or whatever shade of brown you call it, staring at her. She’ll shake the thought from her mind and focus enough to carry on. “So I guess we’re supposed to raise our glasses, salute them and shout good wishes. Congrats you two on finally making it.” She swallows the liquid whole, her mouth run dry by the look in hazel eyes. “Good luck following that Cheney.”

Lauren stands to hug her, cheekily smirking like she can best her easily. Steps out of her way so she can stand down, and if she’s searching for hazel eyes, she’ll pretend it’s because she’s finished her drink. And if she only turns away to hug Tobin first, and then Christen. She’ll shake it from her mind, and carry onto to her seat before reaching to fill her glass. 

She wants to blame the glances on too much wine, nerves from the speech or even that it’s because Emily is sat just to the right of the bar. She wants to say that it’s only tonight that she stares, but of all things that Kelley O’Hara is, liar she is not. And she laughs during the pauses, cheers at the smiles, and claps loudest after the well wishes. And in the in-between of those moments? She finds herself stealing glances at the girl by the bar. 

By the time the plates are cleared, the speeches done and the couple moves to cut the cake. Kelley can tell you the lines of her dress, the wrinkles of her eyes, and the number of glasses of wine drank between them. She’ll tell you they move deliberately to the back of the crowd. Linger by a table just right of the bar, where she’s finds Emily’s hand extending a drink that’s anything but wine.

“Well miss Kelley, that was a mighty fine speech.” She’ll tell you how her Georgian drawls slips out over her like perfume. 

She’ll tell you they’re just friends like she told everyone in this room ten, five and even four years ago that the couple licking icing from lips were. She’ll tell you the sparks are from drinking wine too fast, and the glances are just nerves at standing up for her friends. 

“Onto tequila already? You’re just inviting trouble in.” And it burns in the right way, as her hand finds it’s place on her hip. “What wicked plans do you have with this drink in mind?”

She’ll tell you it burns in all the right ways as she drinks it all in. How her eyes are hazel, or whatever shade you want to call it. 

“I’m just getting you ready to dance.”

“And who said I’d save you one?”

“Jose.” And it’s with a buzz from the speakers, calling attention to the brides while they step out from behind a table holding hands. “Though I heard there’s a better line to use on the dance floor.”

And they’ll tell you they knew from their first handshake and hello. That they’d love each forever, in anyway the other would allow it. And Kelley will tell you, she watched them grow into building a home. She’ll tell you of the hand on her hip, the dare in her eyes, a shade of hazel is what they call them.

“And what line is that?” She’ll hum, just under the music, hope it drawls out and covers her like perfume. 

“That I knew I’d know you forever.” And if she takes a breath to learn what she smells like, she’ll shake it from her mind. 

“I’ve heard that before,” she’ll pause before carrying on. “You’ll have to try harder.”

If her laugh sounds like rain, her drawl like perfume, her touch like tequila. Then Kelley will tell you the sparks are from drinking wine too fast. 

“Sonny! Come dance with us.” She’ll tell you her eyes are some shade they call hazel. 

“Your party calls.” She’ll push her away, stealing her glass, and share a glance that says, I know now what they knew then. 

“Say you’ll save me a dance?” She may be the riot, but Tobin’s the instigator, giving her reign over the music. 

“Only if you use a better line then that one.” Because their story is different, the moments louder then expected, it started in a dare.

“Then I dare you, I dare you to dance with me.” She’s all smiles you want to tear from her lips, with a drawl like perfume. That causes Kelley to shake it from her head, pause before carrying on.

“We’ll see Sonnett, we’ll see.”

———-

Emily waits at a table to the right of the bar, her heels abandoned, her eyes clouded. She waits and she waits for her turn at greeting the brides. Waits for her friends to return to their seats. She waits, oh how she waits for her to glance over. She waits until impatience takes over, downing what’s left in her glass, thinks it’s now or never. And it’s a prank she thinks that’ll make her laugh, make her see that the dance isn’t over. 

So she practices her drawl on the bartender, switches hands and glasses, before thinking it’s dumb. That she’s stopped looking over, too enthralled in her group of people slightly older, to care about the foolish thing she’s set to do. But that’s never stopped her before.

“It’s raining dollar, dollar bills y’all!!” Emily slides on the floor while shuffling the bills in their faces. 

“These are literally all just one dollar bills.” Lindsay only blinks, and Mal just stares at them falling onto the floor.

“Yeah thirty-seven of them, I counted and I expect them all back.” They share a look, as laughter surrounds them, before grabbing a handful each and run. “Hey, those are mine!” 

She chases after them, forgetting what’s left behind. Stumbling when she hears Rose yell, “look I found a dollar!” Causes her to turn too fast on her heel to keep her balance and stumbles into a chair at Cody Press’s table.

“Hey me too!!” Stares in awkward confusion of what to do while straining to hear Sam whisper,” Do you think Alex planned for them to use dollar bills instead of confetti?” 

Hears her laugh across the room, and struggles out, “I am so sorry sir, but I have to go.” Cranes her neck over the crowd just to get a glimpse of her, before yelling. “Rose! Sam! What the hell are you two doing?” Their heads snapping up from unsubtly searching the floor around them, drinks clutched close to their chests. “Those are mine.” 

And she hears her laugh from across the room. Fights to get to the middle of the floor. Cranes her neck over the crowd for a glance of Lindsay whispering in her ear while pointing towards her. And Emily will admit that she doesn’t embarrass easily, she will admit she’s more likely to play the fool than not. She’ll admit that losing thirty-seven dollars was well worth the sound of her laughter. Because the nights not over and she promised a dance.

“No they’re not, I found it!” Rose screams as she jumps behind Sam, who freezes at the laughter. 

“What? What’s yours?” Sam mumbles out in confusion, unsure of where to step and who to protect. 

“Just give them back.” Emily tries to hide the grin at her plan well met in the sound of her laughter.

“But we found them.” And if she tries to climb Sam on the dance floor, it’s because she’s a fool more often than not. “Sonnet stop, we found them. Finders keepers.”

“Yeah get off her.” And if Rose misses her arm, hits Cody instead. She’ll say it’s worth the laughter. “I am so sorry sir. I swear I didn’t mean to hit you.”

If they cower under his stare, shuffle shyly to the corner, she’ll say it was worth it for the sound of her laughter. And the scolding’s not too bad, just a quirk of Tobin’s head and a sigh from Christen Press. Then she’ll say it’s well worth the loss of a few dollars. 

“So I heard you lost thirty-two dollars.” And she’s quick with the math, quick to reply, with a grin far too wide that her plan had worked.

“Thirty-seven actually,” hoping the line is much better. “Wanna help me look for the last five?”

And it’s the sound of her laughter that makes her think she’ll love her forever. Makes her sigh and hope, that she’ll dance with her.

“That is a better line than I was expecting Sonnett.” And her breath smells of tequila and wine, her hand burns on her hip in all the right ways. “Come on, I promised you a dance, didn’t I?”

And the nights not over, her plan well met, at the sound of her laugh. Her hand burns in all the right ways, as she spins her with a drawl into the middle of the dance floor. The scolding not too bad, just a quirk of Tobin’s head and a sigh from Christen Press. Her words coming in, like perfume on the wind, washing over them.

“Do you think they know yet?” And Emily doesn’t embarrass easily, in fact she plays the fool more often than not. Thinks Kelley’s too smart, too solid in her group of slightly older players to pay it any mind. Just shakes it from her head, breathes deep and carries on, just out of step with Kelley O’Hara.


	2. Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelley was rambunctious and too wild to contain, but she’s settled now, or so she say.

They say Kelley is rambunctious, calmed in her age but still too wild to contain. She may not run at the first hint of a prank, is found more often then not on the outskirts, but she’s the hype woman. screaming herself hoarse in huddles, dance floors and sidelines. She’s the self appointed hype woman, until she’s not. She’s rambunctious still, a little too wild to contain, but it’s only from the outskirts now.

She passed the torch to a girl, all blonde hair and eyes the shade of hazel they say, who’s still in the middle. A girl a little too rambunctious, a little too loud, that screams herself hoarse more often than not. But they dance, in locker rooms, and on open fields, behind closed doors with teammates that linger just a minute too long. And Kelley is happy to step back, settle into herself and watch the pranks, the fights, all those riotous acts. She’s grown old enough to not remember every spilled cup, sudden pop up of teammates hidden away. She’s old enough not to remember the indecision, and yearning, to play each minute, start each game. She’s earned her spot on the outskirts, solid in the lineup. 

Kelley is happy when she’s alone, swept up in books, emails and phone calls. She’s happy to wake up and know who’s beside her. Happy to not remember the indecision of will she, won’t she, is she mine? And maybe this new found calmness isn’t with a blonde haired girl, too loud for the outskirts. But it’s here, and Kelley settles into it without out any questions. None too prominent, none too consuming. Still she thinks of why they called that shade of brown hazel, when it’s closer to honey, closer to coffee with cream. 

Kelley’s good at letting go of expectations, missed goals and thoughts that maybe she could be mine. She settles into the moments with Meg, loses all track of questions, too prominent, too consuming. And she thinks her eyes are what you call hazel, too dark for honey. She settles into the quiet, spinning around in kitchens, dancing in the mornings. She’s still too wild to contain, but she lets her roam in city nights. On open fields, and behind closed doors with teammates that stay a minute too long. 

She’ll tell you that Tobin has weighed the rights and the wrongs of the situation. Says, “it’s not for me to decide Kell’s. If you love her, love her enough to stop all the roaming. Then it’s not for me to decide Kelley, that’s all on you.” 

And she hates that Tobin’s calmed, built up walls and stays. stays even when she calls for adventure, promises it’s only a misdemeanour. Kelley always takes the blame, called Tobin the instigator, egged her on with a dare, until now when she can’t seem to even budge her an inch. Their rooms a mess, all clutter and chaos, that neither moves to clean. Instead settling back, with a game in the background.

“You’re boring now that you’re married.” She mutters it low, looking down to her phone, a message waiting from Emily. 

“You’ve been saying that for years now.” She pulls out a package of cookies from somewhere on her left, eating two in a minute before thinking to offer her one.

“Not my fault you two decided to get married your first date.” She grabs the package, thinking she should ignore the message, thinks she doesn’t get an input on the topic.

“It wasn’t a date!” It’s mumbled with crumbs settling on her cheek, her chin but does nothing to mask the blush.

“You literally just married her, does that really matter?” And she’ll always laugh at how Tobin pauses before shrugging, giving into her defeat.

“Still wasn’t a date, we just went for a walk.” Oh yeah that sure shows her, because walks can’t be dates. “Don’t change the subject dude, this is about you.”

“Isn’t it always?” Not in Seattle anyways, Seattle’s not a city for dates, she’ll tell anyone who remembers. “I just don’t know if I’m ready. If we’re there yet... it’s kind of a big decision to make.”

Her phone dings two more times, one a reminder, the other a photo, but she chooses to ignore it.

“Emily?” Doesn’t get an input on this topic. “What does she say about all this?”

“What does that matter?” Maybe she’s too quick to yell it, too quick to deny it. Maybe she avoids the phone, the way Tobin stares, or that the score line’s changed on the game. “She doesn’t get input on this, inner circle only.”

And it’s not her phone that buzzes, not her phone that breaks the tension. 

“Chris wants to know if that includes her too?” And she’ll kick Tobin Heath for being so domestic.

“You told her?” Tosses the package at her head, turns back to the scoreboard of a game in the background. “Of course you told her, you little shit... tell her of course she is. And that I like her better than you.”

“She says she doubts that, but she’ll take it.” Kelley O’Hara hate’s how domestic she’s become, “she says to tell you that Emily’s waiting on your call... says it’s your turn to choose where to go. where are you going? Why am I not invited?”

“Because you’re married, and have a curfew of eleven.” She tries to dodge the cookie, tries to ignore the phone ringing, but Tobin has always had good aim.

“Seriously where are you going, and can I come?” The photo is of bars close by, pins sticking up on a map, the text a question. The call from a girl cross country, waiting on Kelley to come back. 

“Hey Meg,” she mouths the word no to Tobin, rolls off the other side of the bed. Ignores her phone buzzing, steps into the hall for a moment. “What’re you wearing?”

“So you’re alone then, good.” Her laugh is tinny over the phone, sigh breathy like it’s an natural occurrence, laughing at something Kelley’s said. “I miss you, just wanted a minute to hear your voice.” 

And it’s these quiet moments, when the question’s aren’t too prominent, aren’t too consuming, when she thinks her eyes are hazel, too dark for honey. 

“Well darling you’ve got it all to yourself for the moment.” Thinks that her drawl comes out when she’s tired, plays it up for the girl on the other end.” What’re you doing? What have I missed?” 

And she ignores how her phone buzzes, settles in to the moment, let’s thought of questions not prominent or consuming go. Shakes them from her mind and carries on with a girl not blonde, but has eyes too dark to be honey. She’ll admit she’s rambunctious, still too wild to contain, but she’s settled into the moment, and thinks it’s nice enough to stay. 

But her phone buzzes on, and there’s a tap on the door, so she calls for a pause, knocks back in succession, waits for Tobin to let her back in. 

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you soon.” 

“How soon?”

“Soon as I can,” see’s her standing with her phone on display, a list of bars and a simple question. “Maybe tonight, probably tomorrow.”

Wants to laugh at how she tilts her head, furrows her brow in false tension. But she hates how domestic Tobin’s become, finds joy at her groan when Christen decides she wants to come along and play.

“I love you.” And maybe she thinks of the glances, the wrinkles of her eyes, and how she burned like tequila, in all the right ways. 

“I love you too.” Maybe it’s said a little quiet and rushed, but she promises you she’s settled. “What?”

“She got Christen to agree to join you.” Mutters it as accusation before giving her space, stares at her in accusation, like she has any control over the situation. “Dude, she’s going to be pissed I ate all the cookies.”

“Tobs, dude, you used to not be married.” She used to lead the charge, pay for the shots and egg her on with a dare. “I miss that.”

“Shut up O’Hara and answer Emily.” She hates how domestic she’s turned, the hint of accusation. “She’s waiting on you.” 

So she shakes her head, puts it all out of mind, calls her instead of texting.

“Sonnett, gather the kids.” And she’ll take the blame for whatever game Tobin’s instigating. “But tell Christen the cookies are all gone, so she’s paying for first rounds.”

“What cookies? Wait what bar did you choose? Stop it Lindsay I’m asking.” If the riot and ruckus make her miss her voice hoarse, she’ll shake it from her head. “I don’t know what she means about cookies, just let me ask... Kelley? What cookies are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s an inner circle thing.” Laughs a little too loud for her small frame to contain at the way Tobin groans. “Just meet me downstairs in twenty.... Looks like your curfews been lifted.”

“I don’t have a curfew, you have a curfew.” Laughs at how she mutters and carries on in getting ready.

“Is this what married life is like?” Points at her phone, how it buzzes with their picture, all wrapped up in each other. 

“Honestly, It’s so much better than we thought.” She turns from her answer, pulls out a dress and thinks how she’s missed the riot and ruckus. “Hey... no, Kelley helped, I swear... yeah I’ll buy some more on our way back, I promise... I told you I didn’t eat those they just disappeared... Christen I didn’t eat the last box of thin mints, you did. I don’t even like them... Why would Dawn know unless you tell her?” Thinks if that’s being settled, arguing over cookies, “I’ll buy more on the way back, I promise.” She thinks she can handle it.

“Remember when you weren’t married?” She mutters while dressing, keeping the laughter at bay and failing.

“I’ll see you in ten, I love you.” Laughs at the way she tilts her head, brow furrowed in false tension, before shrugging her shoulders, giving into defeat. “It’s kind of a funny story, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. So where are we going?” 

“Haven’t decided, but there’s a few places close by. Maybe that one over on main, where we went back in ‘15. You know before you were married.” Dodges the sock thrown at her head, curses her aim and thinks if this is settled, maybe she can handle it. “You know, if I don’t think too much about it, I think I can do it.”

Notes the tilt of Tobin’s head, how she stares in thought before shrugging it all off.

“If it’s what you want Kelley, I promise you it’s so much better than we ever thought.” Kelley has always been rambunctious, too loud for her small frame. Taking all blame for the riotous pranks, and swears she’s finally settled. “But I’d make sure you’re ready. Because this whole thing, building a home, it doesn’t always come easy.”

“Are the fights over cookies too much for you to handle?” She asks while she gathers her things, double checks her belongings. 

“If it was with anyone else, anyone but Christen, maybe. You know it’s a funny story.” Watches her pull on a jacket she knows isn’t hers, checking the pockets over. “When she first stayed over in Portland, we’d been on the road for most of the summer. So all I had in my cupboards was a package of cookies, and I swear I didn’t touch them but they were all gone in the morning. And I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a hungry Christen Press, but she’s kind of scary.”

Laughs at the thought that anyone thinks Tobin Heath’s completely settled. 

“That’s why she’s pissed? Because you ate all the cookies 5 years ago?” They take turns turning off all the lights, before leaving the room.

“I didn’t eat them! They just disappeared.” Thinks she’d be mad too, if it were anyone but her, but shakes the thought of eyes not quite hazel away. 

“Whatever you say Heath. I remember your shopping skills.” Waits at the elevator, before texting the others, adding to the game they’re about to play. “Think Alex would be down to join?”

“If she’s still awake maybe. Plus dude, I got married, my shopping skills are not that big of a problem to make her question that.” She calls for the lobby, leaves the third floor lit for Tobin. 

“I wonder if ash and Ali have the same problems.” Checks her hip, and punches her arm as the doors close.

“Why don’t you ask them and see, since you’re still weighing it all out.” Laughs at the weak return and thinks she misses the riot and ruckus. 

“Maybe start a poll on the team? See where cookies rank when deciding if you’re going to ask someone to marry you?” Forgot she’s supposed to be settled.

“Hey if that’s too serious a question for you, then maybe you’re not ready to ask her.” And she hates how domestic Tobin’s become, pushing her away to shake the thoughts coming to mind. “I mean it though Kell’s, this is all on you. Maybe think it all out before deciding.”

“I’m ready to be settled though. Hell even you’ve somehow beat me to it.”

“Well I’m impatient, you know that... “ she wants to call the lie, remind her of the years she sat in wait. “But if you want me to be honest... there’s a huge difference between settled and ready to build a home.” The doors open sudden, revealing a worried Christen. “Hi.”

She thinks back to the beginning, when they were terrible at hiding, how young and opposite they seemed. 

“Hi,” how they always seemed to linger a minute too long. “Don’t leave me alone tonight, I’ve already referred three fights and a dance off. They started early with the drinks.” 

Watches how they hug, with a surety of home, kiss languidly like they have all the time in the world. And thinks, she should be settled. 

“And where are the children?” Glances down the hall, before stepping back in. 

“They’ll be down soon enough, Mal’s playing DJ and Rose is determined to hype them all up before we go.” She remembers how she used to stand between them playing host to the unknown.

“Maybe the bar on main isn’t the best idea. I don’t remember there being much room to dance in.” thinks how she used to be too rambunctious, too wild and is glad she’s settled. Even if she misses how hoarse her voice was. 

“They’ll figure it out. Al says she’ll meet us there.” They step out to find Emily in wait, and she think her eyes are much closer to honey than hazel. Traces the lines of her smile, thinks her laugh covers like perfume and shakes all thought of questions too prominent, too consuming from mind. And reminds herself she’s settled.


	3. Missed steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex Morgan is observant and rigid in knowledge of the facts. She’s decisively and morally responsible for a select few in her circle. Has always been the one to reign Tobin in and occupy Kelley enough to step disaster.

Alex Morgan is observant and rigid in her knowledge of the facts. Both decisively and morally responsible for a select few in her group. Talks them off the ledge from buying unnecessary beach side shacks to explaining that a stolen stop sign only sounds great in theory. She has always been the one to reign Tobin in and keep Kelley occupied enough to stop disaster.

She’s the one that has kept track of dates and events. Has noted them all down in a journal she found in Portugal. Carefully placed photos inside, thinking they’d appreciate it later. And she’ll feign embarrassment at the way Tobin says “Al, that’s kind of creepy.” And sigh soft, smirking her victory when Christen hugs her a little too tight. Thankful to own something solid of their time spent in the in-between.

She’ll brush off the thoughts that maybe she should be the one so certain and sure of being in love. Instead she lets the doubts and indecision creep in, before deciding that no matter what could’ve been, she knows completely, that they would always end this way. And it’s not that she’s unhappy, or out of love. It’s the fact that it has always seemed just off. 

She married young, thought it just a confirmation of their plans, and she’s happier for it. has always liked facts, rigid in her thinking. But there are things she feels she may have missed in the steps toward where she’s at. Like drunken mistakes, leaving phone calls needing rescue, and the indecision of never knowing where the others at. She’s not out of love, far from it, just feels there’s missed steps to knowing what they have. To understanding the act, of dancing out of step, and learning how to build a home. 

Alex Morgan is observant, from watching the way Christen Press used to act, timid and unsure on the sideline. To the confusion of Tobin setting alarms to wake long before what’s normal. She’s rigid in her thinking, making she to lay all the facts out before focusing on the puzzle. So what’s off about the moment is that she’s blindsided by the question. Whispered from the corner, while lost at the end of her third glass.

“So what’s the difference between settled and building a home then?” Strains to understand, to listen.

“Shirley and Christen.” Connects the dots, and thinks, she’s the one morally responsible to keep Kelley occupied from disaster. 

“What’re you two conspiring about over there?” Buys time to look them over, let’s the thought sink in.

“Who you love more?” Grins at the smile on Tobin’s face, thinks it’s an equal tie at best.

“Christen.” Laughs off their looks of indignation, and seeks out their fourth. Never really counting the children as part of their inner circle. 

“Excuse me? Who makes you pancakes in bed when you’re hungover?” Laughs at the voice growing hoarse by the second. Revelling in the threat of riotous acts, like their age doesn’t matter.

“Servando.” Smiles when she spots her, lost in the crowd, struggling with a tray of shots. 

And it’s an oddity to behold, how Christen seems so bold in side stepping a hand meant to stop her. Looks over with a grimace, flashing her ring to the owner, before rolling her eyes in answer. Looks bewildered at someone thinking she can care for an random idiot in a bar. But they chuckle in amusement, as Tobin sits back, hackles set on edge. And who would’ve thunk it, that Tobin Heath can be possessive, but it seems a fact for Alex to note. She places it to the back of her mind, next to the knowledge of knowing the difference between settled and building a home. 

“Pretty Pressy’s still turning heads, how does that make you feel Toby?” It’s the way in which Kelley sneers it, straw between teeth and a look of accusation in her eyes. 

“Get off it Kelley,” that has Alex noting that something seems just off. 

Before it falls into place and she connects the dots, there’s a yell from the crowd, a laugh too loud. And Alex notes how fast she turns her head, how the tension fades and there’s a look of something in the glance, like a reminder of them but younger. Back to when she would step back and look them all over, and it reminds her of a look, back when they were younger. A look that Kelley swore not to repeat, one that has Alex thinking she’s responsible to occupy her from disaster. But the question repeats, the difference between being settled and building a home. 

“Hey Kelley,” and maybe she feels that she’s missed a step on getting to now. “Wanna dance with me?”

That has her giving in to that itch of knowing what the ledge feels like. She avoids the stare, and the way they both mouth, “what’re you doing,” and “don’t.” But she knows what they think, has discussed it too deep while in corners of booths. Sat watching how they dance out of step, laughing too loud for their frames. 

And she knows the repercussions, remembers the mess in Seattle, and throws caution to the wind for her own amusement. For Alex is astute in her thinking, rigid in thoughts, and morally responsible for those in her circle. But she’s missed steps on her way, forgot to ask the difference between settled and home. And she’s not out of love, but it all feels the same, that somethings just off. 

And she’s never one to remember the children, keeps them at bay, but there’s something about Emily stood in the middle. Her moves sporadic but somehow practiced, she laughs too loud, too chaotic. And it’s the way she moves, in the riotous acts, voice growing hoarse that reminds her. Kelley’s too wild, too rambunctious and too loud to be settled. And she remembers Seattle, but notes the look in their eyes, how it’s Emily paused in wait in the middle. 

Thinks how they laugh so freely, spinning with a drawl, getting lost in the riot and ruckus. And maybe it’s the way she seems unsettled, out of step but trying to keep pace, that makes her think she should note the date. Shakes it from her head, breathes deep, before carrying on with Lindsay’s hand pulling her in, the kids all cheering a welcome. 

Maybe it’s the way she notes Christen’s and Tobin all tucked away, lost in each other. Maybe it’s the steps she’s missed, on her own way to now, that has her throwing caution out the window. So she leans in close, smirks at the way she shivers, before saying just under the music.

“Who cares about being settled?” And she’s not out of love, has never questioned or doubted being married. No, she’s just worried she’s missed all the riot and ruckus, has forgotten to call for a rescue. Fears that time has passed her by, and she’ll never know it as well as they do.

But Alex Morgan’s observant, and rigid in thought, that Meg isn’t enough for someone to settle. And it’s an argument she’s had before, when they were younger and felt right in her thoughts when Tobin sighed defeat. And she hopes it’s end is in an invitation to a home built out of devotion like theirs. But she worries she’s wrong, and that egging her on could end in riotous acts gone wrong. 

So maybe it makes her miss the youth of their days, now that they’re all stood on the outskirts, solid in the lineup. Maybe it makes the yearn and riots all that more appealing. But she’ll make note of the way they stand in wait, laughing too loudly for the others to notice. 

And maybe she’ll note the whispers exchanged, the looks avoided at the music change. Note how they all seem to step aside so they’re not in the middle, but stood to the side. Leaving them all alone with the notion of being dared that they should disappear. But Alex is focused on the way they all laugh, throwing cheers and wild laughs like it’s all just an act in pretending they never notice. 

She finds her voice going hoarse when Tobin steps in, and Christen soon after. Shakes it from her head, when Tobin says, “I hope you know what you started.”

“Hey, you’re the instigator.” Laughs in the banter, and lets it all go, no longer their keeper. 

So she’ll note the day, photograph the event, of how they stand too close for friends and sway until the music ends. And Alex Morgan is observant, of the looks they steal, the touches they place and how their friends play dumb to the moment. 

“Hey Alex, want a shot? I’m paying.” And if Lindsay’s looking right passed her, soaking them in, she’ll play dumb to the events around her. 

She’ll nod her head yes, push Tobin ahead, ignore her voice when she says. “Not like this Alex,” tries to pretend she’s just 21 and joining the riot around her. “They’ll regret it if it starts like this.”

She’ll reign her in, with a reach of her hand, and whisper. “She needs to figure it out, let her decide if she’s ready to settle.”

Hates to admit with Christen’s breath hot on her neck. “She’s not a cheater Al.”

She’ll stop in her tracks, take note of their brows furrowed in tense banter. “She’s won’t go that far. She just needs to dance it out, I promise I’ll keep her from going too far. This isn’t Seattle.”

She’ll remember to note all those times spent locked in contemplation of near riotous acts. Let herself unwind, live in their love, and the ruckus it causes as a missed step of her own. Let them dance out of step, make note to pull them out in time for decisions to be made on being settled. But she’s no longer their keepers, just the note taker of facts, on the outskirts of their laughter. 

So they return to waiting shots in hand, with a whisper too loud for the older girls to ignore of, “Sonnet can’t wait much longer.”

And it’s not Seattle, where Kelley stood in wait of something much louder than they wanted to admit. So they stand to the side of the riot and ruckus, watching them dance on just this side of in step. 

“She has to know she’s waiting.” Surrounds them like perfume, and leaves them all alone thinking of all the missed steps on the way to building a home. 

She’ll photograph the way they stand closer than friends, lost in laughter to the world around them. Think Kelley’s too wild to settle. Find her baby fines bristling at the sound of, “and what about meg?”

Before she takes her shot, shaking it from mind, that Kelley’s not ready to settle. But the burns all wrong, the song too long for rigid thought to stop. So she turns on her heel, pulls Tobin along and joins the riot of their laughter. She steps in-between their indecision and says, “you have to figure it out Kelley. She’s waiting for an answer.”

Whispers it close, then pulls her closer still, thinking of all the ways it could lead to disaster. And she promised before not to repeat all the chaos of Seattle. Because walks don’t mean dates, when you’re dancing out of step on the path to building a home. And her breath smells of tequila and wine, her drawl too defined for a decision to be made on being settled. So she gives way for Tobin to take them out of disaster.

“Hey Kell’s it’s time to go home.” Thinks of the way she holds Christen’s hand, and how they figured it out without her. 

So maybe she took a different path, missed steps on the way. but she’s settled into home with out a delay and thinks it may never lead to the disaster of loving someone too much while out of step. So she gathers her close, says goodnight to the rest and sets to occupy the mind of Kelley O’Hara. But she notes the way Emily stands in wait, shaking her head to rid her of the things they’ve never really said. Watches how they pause in their hug, holding on a minute too long. Thinks to note the date, and set it aside for a future event, when they figure it all out. 

Let’s her walk home alone, ignoring the way they follow, until she stops unsteady on her feet. 

“You promised to buy Press cookies.” It’s the look in her eyes that calls to mind that a decisions been made. And she wonders what was said, thinks back to the puzzle laid just before her. But something seems off, and the words blindside her. “I’ll go in with you.”

So they wander into the shop, leaving her alone with Christen, to think of all the ways they just flirted with disaster. 

“Do you think she’s okay?” Whispers it low in defeat of how she doesn’t think she occupied her enough to stop a riotous act. 

“She will be, she just had too much to drink.” Counts her blessings that Christen’s the one beside her.

“She’s not ready to settle.” Voices her concern that maybe she’s made the decision that could lead her to disaster. 

“She’ll figure it out.” She says it all in one breath while watching how Tobin stops Kelley to pause, whispers into her ear and smiles too wide for comfort.

“Emily might not wait much longer.” She’s waiting, unknown, between all that Seattle could’ve been and what home could mean. And Alex Morgan is astute in her observations, too rigid in thought, to think she has the answer.

“It’s not the time for them.” Wishes it wasn’t true, thinks it’s just a delay, but what does she know of learning how to build a home, when she never missed a step to being married. “But it will be, we’re just stuck in their in-between.”

“You know what Tobin says?” That she knew from their first hello that they’d end in forever.

“That she knew from the first handshake?” And it makes her laugh, how simple it all is coming from a person who was too scared to set roots that deep. 

“That the difference between settled and building a home was you.” She likes the way she blushes, how she shrugs it all off like it’s the only answer. 

“She’s not wrong...Tobin Heath can be surprising, but she’s rarely wrong.” Turns to know the look of a love so certain. “I couldn’t imagine it ever being as good as this with anyone else.”

And they’re not wrong in thinking how it’s so right to be so settled in home with or without all the missed steps. But Alex Morgan makes note of Kelley O’Hara smiling at her phone, and thinks that Meg’s not the answer. So she shakes it all from her head, pauses to breathe on a beat of 4,3,2 release. Then steps in to reign Tobin in from buying all the cookies.

“Heath, Dawn will kill you if she sees all that.” But it’s just met with a laugh too loud, and a smirk too wild to be contained.

“She’s too scared of Press going hungry to care.” Shrieks at her tackle, and pushes her away, thinking back to their days of riot and ruckus. And if the package that hits her makes anyone think Tobin’s settled, she’ll laugh it all off. 

“There better be thin mints in there.” Looks at how they kiss, like there’s all the time in the world. 

And she’ll tell you she’s sure in her steps, rigid in thought, responsible for the home she’s built without any falter. So she’ll stand to the side and let the chaos ride, waiting for Kelley to answer.

“So Kelley, given it anymore thought tonight?” Tobin’s voice has grown hoarse, as she walks hand in hand with Christen at her side. But the dare in her tone hints at something too prominent and consuming to ignore.

“I want to be settled,” the words seems just off in the way she sighs. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

So Alex Morgan walks beside them in resignation that her role in their lives is just to pay witness to the way they miss steps. Note all their delays, and learn what it looks all grown up, set in their lineup, as they settled into what home feels like. She sighs in resignation that she’s no longer their keeper, and that Kelley’s too wild to contain, but maybe disaster has been side stepped, in her decision on what it is to build a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out of nowhere, and I don’t know how I feel about where it’s headed next... but Seattle holds too much meaning, and it’s affects are so different.


	4. In the middle of now and something ignored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But can she tell you why she decides to wait in the hotel lobby, fifteen minutes early, after being woken up by a phone call at an hour before dawn? She’ll answer that more often than not, she plays a fool. And by god does she play it well for Kelley O’Hara’s amusement.

Kelley O’Hara is giving Emily Sonnett whiplash, and try as she might she can’t say it’s all her fault. Because she knows that Kelley’s in a relationship. She knows that they’ve been together for two years at least and there doesn’t seem to be an end, or even cracks in their walls. She knows that whatever they could’ve been was ignored at the beginning, redefined and held in place, where she finds she still waits, somewhere in the middle. She knows, she knows, she knows, she swears she knows. But can she tell you why she decides to wait in the hotel lobby, fifteen minutes early, after being woken up by a phone call at an hour before dawn? She’ll answer that more often than not, she plays a fool. And by god does she play it well for Kelley O’Hara’s amusement. 

She’ll tell you that in all this confusion, she’s never once felt unsettled or in search of some answer. The ideas are too foreign, and all she knows of is want. The want to start, the want to play, the want to see her, know her, make her laugh. She’ll tell you that she works for what she wants, get what she deserves, nothing more and nothing less than that. what she knows is that she shouldn’t be in want of things not attainable, knows that in patience comes work. She’ll tell you she’s just barely a professional, but goddamn if she doesn’t deserve it all. Because she’s done the work, tested her patience and still she wants something that she can’t have. 

And she thinks you’ll stop to take a pause, before you ask her, “Why the hell, 2 years later, are you waiting for Kelley O’Hara?” And she’ll say it’s because the dance isn’t over, and the game they play has only really just begun. That in the riot of the night, her hand was the one she clung too. and when they danced, out of step while face to face, rather then side by side, she swore she knew it then too. That even while they call her young, she swears she knows she’ll love her forever. 

And she’s heard of hello’s, and first handshakes, watched them come together. She’s seen it played out in artifacts like pictures. Envied them their home, and all things it seems to hold. But Emily has always known that what she wants she has to work for. so if her part is to play the fool, and her only reward her laughter. Then she’ll play it as best she can, and ignore the stares from her friends.

But the way they danced, out of step but working to keep pace with each other, Well it has to mean something. So she waits in the lobby, under steady watch of the staff, as the sky begins to grow colour. If she stares at her phone, reading text after text in hopes to discover what calls her to meet at such early an hour. She’ll say it’s out of nerves, and not out fear of the things they’ve never said.

If she smiles too wide at her stepping out of the elevator? She’ll shake it from her head, and count her steps until she says,  
“Hi Em.” 

If her heart beats doubles at the softness of her voice, she’ll swallow her pride and reach out to hold her.

“Hi Kell’s.” And she knows she shouldn’t be here, that they flirted with disaster just a few hours before. 

But what does she truly know, of the riotous acts that have lead to her fear of the unknown. Of being settled instead of building a home. So instead she’ll just hold her, small frame tucked in close, and she’ll breathe in on a beat of 4,3,2 release if it means she’ll know her perfume. Because Emily has only ever known all the things she’s wanted, and that Kelley O’Hara is what she’s wanted most.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.” Her words are hot on her neck, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

If she feels her tears soaking her shirt, she’ll ignore it and just hold her closer. Because as brave as she acts, she’s never known fear until now. Standing too close to the things they’ve never said, and thinks, oh how they could destroy her. 

“What’s wrong Miss Kelley?” Pleads the question out, voice too hoarse to speak above a whisper. But they danced face to face instead of side to side, swayed in the half step between just friends and what they’ve ignored. She can still smell the wine on her breath, and knows it’s all just off, but she can’t stop herself from saying. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

She’ll lay a slow kiss to the crown of her hair, feel her breathe deep, in the confines of her arms, and sway just slightly. Ignore the stares from the hotel staff, and think of every morning she’s spent like this. Waiting on Kelley O’Hara to let her in. And Emily will tell you, that Kelley’s been in love three times before. First with an idea, second a person and lastly the notion of building a home. What those things mean she may never know but she thinks them an answer. Lets them sit softly hitting her sternum, growing beneath ribs, because they’re the only answer to the things left unsaid. And that’s all she has to hold onto, to keep her feet stood fast, in the middle of now and what they’ve ignored. 

“I don’t want to talk em. I’m tired of talking about it all.” So she’ll lay a slow kiss to the crown of her hair, breathe deep to know it’s smell. Before sighing in relief that no one will know of the things they leave unsaid.

“We don’t have to talk at all.” And she shouldn’t be settled, or thinking of things that don’t belong in a home. But what she knows is that the want of it all, grows beneath her ribs, hits soft against her sternum. 

So they just sway in the middle of a hotel while the rest still sleep, unknown to the things that happen between them. And she thinks that the sky is too pink, the burn not quite right, as it fades to orange. Breaking apart at the question from staff, stood behind a desk watching them. 

“Miss Sonnett, Miss O’Hara? Is there something we can do for you?” She’ll curse them all out for breaking them apart then shake it from her head.

“I don’t think so, but thank you.” Thread their fingers tight, and think that a walk does not equal date when the mornings too young to know of the things left unsaid. 

She’ll lead them to the safety of a room, occupied by things with their names on them. Hide her away in the corner and think that maybe she’s afraid, that she’ll always be in wait. But she’s a fool for her even if her only reward can be the sound of her laughter.

“You know this place has always reminded me of Seattle.” Think the words sit too heavy, hitting her sternum too hard, suffocating as they blossom like a bruise beneath her ribs. “There’s no reason why, it just does.”

“Will you tell me,” finds the words too thick, her voice too hoarse for it to be spoken above a whisper. “If I asked, will you tell me about Seattle?”

They never speak of serious things, find them too scary to face. Instead giving in to the riot and ruckus, as a way to forget how they ignored it all. But if tonight’s anything to think on, it’s that there’s something to be said on what it means to be settled. 

“I was younger than you,” finds it too hard to breathe deep, afraid to disturb her. “Camp was nothing new, I’d done it before, but then my position changed. And everything I knew of the game seemed to be a waste. And she promised I’d learn, gave it her everything to teach me.” She’s heard all about her, even had her poster on her wall. “I can’t say it seemed wrong, that there was anything more to it. But the idea of her was too strong, and I was suddenly her keeper.” Heard of the fights, the calls and how quickly she could turn to anger. “I was meant to calm all her edges, take all her anger and keep her in check. And it wasn’t anything so big, just moments alone, but it seemed so much deeper than that.” She’s heard the whispers. “She taught me that walks aren’t dates, not in Seattle, where she already built her home.”

“Hope was married.” Thinks it’s all too much at once, to know of Seattle.

“And I was a kid,” but she’s older now. “It never came to anything, was just a crush that destroyed us.” And she’s too scared to speak, afraid she’ll disturb her. “I always knew it wouldn’t mean anything, that she got married and settled. But I was just a kid, and the thing about being settled is that it doesn’t mean happy. I get that now.” If they ask about Meg, she’ll say her hand is the one she reaches for. “At the end of it all I found Ann, and I fell in love for real.”

She’s heard of her too, seen her at dinners when she was just starting out. Thought they looked like they were in love. But she’s only heard of the whispers.

“Do you miss her?” Who she’s asking about she doesn’t really know, but it’s a question weighing on her mind. 

“Hope? Sometimes, when the pressures too much and I can’t seem to be heard over the field.” Watches how her eyes droop closed, and she nestle’s back into the chair. 

“And Ann?” Curses herself out at the way she seems small. 

“Everyday, but for different reasons.” And she’s amazed that Kelley’s still talking for someone so tired. “I knew her for so long before it became anything. Learned to fight over distance, and make up in hotel rooms with her. And that’s the difference between them, Ann taught me to forgive. Hope taught me to fight.” Watches how she yawns, pauses to count the freckles on her cheeks. “But I was just a kid, and I wanted world cups and Olympic medals. She wanted bigger things I couldn’t give her, so yeah I still think about her.” Squeezes her hand, and traces the lines of her face, soft in its sleepiness. 

“Do you still love her?” Holds her breathe so not to disturb her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” And she wants to know what has her talking so freely. “But something Tobin once said made me realize that we had to end it. So I went to Seattle, spent a week on Hope’s couch, then broke her heart and threw myself into the game.”

What that all means sings rounds in her head, before she finds herself in a yawn, struggling to keep pace with her.

“What did Tobin say?” She squeezes her hand and pulls her closer. 

“That being in love and wanting to roam around the world without her wasn’t the same as being in love forever.” And they say Tobin Heath is surprising, rarely wrong in her thoughts. “It made me think that I didn’t think about her in the big things. She didn’t exist in those moments, it was always just us in the in-between of games and tournaments. And she deserved something more than what I could give her.”

And it sits uneasy in her stomach, how big a thought that could be. That loving somebody isn’t enough if you can’t give your all to her.

“The things Tobin Heath says huh, who would’ve thought she’s so poetic?” Everyone would once they spoke to her, but she needs to break the tension. Stop this unease sitting in her stomach, because there’s a ghost of a person lingering between them. “And what about... now?”

Hates the way her name tastes on her tongue, like bile and tequila. 

“I’m tired Em.” Knows she doesn’t just mean fatigued. “I’m tired of the not knowing, and I want to be settled.” Feels the sting of tears in the back of her eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet, but I want to be. I want to be something to her... don’t want to hurt her, or break her heart after we’ve spent so long building our own homes.” 

Thinks she’s not ready to hear her thoughts on all the things they leave unsaid. 

“Your own homes?” So she stays focused on the distance, the line that if not tended could be a crack. 

“It could be a start.” And she wants to run, to stop waiting in the past of a time when they decided to ignore it all. Redefine its as just friends, but they danced face to face and not side to side. Her hand is the one she reached for, the one she squeezes tight. “There’s something I want your input on...”

And she’ll play the fool to make her laugh, wait for her in the middle. She’ll work to earn her spot, follow in her footsteps, and test the limits of her patience. 

“What could I tell you that you don’t already know miss Kelley? You’re the smartest girl I know.” Hate how her voice seems to crack, breaking out just above a whisper. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to settle just yet Sonnett.” And Sonnett has never been unsettled, or searched for answers unknown. She’s always been sure of what she wants, willing to work for it. “But I might be soon... and I’m scared to think what your thoughts are on home?” 

And it makes her laugh, out of tension or fear, she’s not sure. But she’ll play a fool if it makes her laugh, thinks how she’s failing in this moment so deep. Turns her head at the sound of a door swinging open, finding the kitchen staff pushing in with out noticing them.

“I don’t think that’s something I can answer for you Kelley.” Hates the waiver in her answer, “I’m just the kid waiting on the sideline for her start.”

Thinks that she’ll wait forever in the middle, biding her time for what she wants. 

“And if I said you just have to be patient?” She’ll want to answer by saying that patience is in the work, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t deserve it. She’ll ignore the implications behind it, think she needs to shake it all from her head. 

Open her mouth to accept the challenge, stutter in her step before falling, jump at the voice calling. “Sonnett!” 

And they were flirting with disaster just hours ago, willing to ignore all the things around them for the comfort of the riot and ruckus. Stood in the middle of things unsaid and something they ignored in the beginning. That Kelley’s always been in a relationship on the outskirts, set in the lineup. And Emily’s still in the middle of the riot, fighting for her start to begin. 

But if she watches the way her eyes become guarded, and think she’s a fool for not making her laugh. Then she’ll tell you she knows, she knows they’re not in step, but they can sway to the music for a moment. And patience is in the work, but not all things are attainable. So all she can give her is the squeeze of her hand hope she gets it, that Emily’s never moved from the middle of something between the beginning and now, never really ignored it but redefined it. And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t earn it, because what she wants is Kelley O’Hara. 

“Sonnett! We’ve got to get ready to go.” And she’ll kick at the heels of Lindsay’s feet, fight her tooth and nail for ruining the moment. Hate herself for just watching her eyes become guarded, so she rushes it all out in a whisper.

“I’ll be damned if I don’t earn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	5. call for a rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words over coffee shared on the patio of a placeholder to home.

Pause. Breathe, on a count of 4,3,2 release... stop. Before the thoughts so prominent, so consuming, take hold. Stop. Shake it all off, the dancing face to face instead of side by side, the way she holds you, like there’s no one outside of the moment, take hold. Stop.

Pause, and shake it from your head like none of it is prominent, none of it is consuming. Stop, stay in the moment with Meg by your side, dinner before you, holed up in domesticity, settled in the moment. don’t question the idea of who’s home it is. Stop.

This is the new normal for Kelley O’Hara. Thoughts that run wild, too prominent for comfort, too consuming for love. Stop. She tells herself, breathes in deep, miscounting the beats. And she thinks this isn’t settled.

Stop. It’s all she’s heard, in text messages and phone calls. All she knows from the moment she wakes up, stop. Stop thinking of the voice hoarse, person stuck in the riotous act of indecision she’s promised she’s grown out of. Stop. Stop pretending, that settled is home, and stop pretending she can be happy with something so short of whole. Stop.

Four weeks, three days out of camp and it’s too overwhelming to think of something outside of the moment. But it moves like smoke from a fire, curling into her lungs, living beneath her ribs. Stop, the bruising is unending, it settles beneath sternums and flows over, ending in restless limbs that can’t seem to stop.

She can’t find the happiness in the moments spent dancing in the morning, between kitchen nook and breakfast table. Stop, it’s all she wants, to stop all the thoughts of keeping pace while being unsettled. Stop. 

Kelley O’Hara has found herself unstable, too restless in thought of what she wants. She swears she settled, but there’s a call to give into the riotous acts she’s grown up in. And she wants to stop, but her minds unable to give up on the dance still available at the other end of what was ignored from the beginning. And she prays for it all to stop.

But the idea that her eyes aren’t hazel, are closer to honey, and people only call her the hype girl because she’s stuck in the middle. The thoughts keep coming, and they won’t stop when she begs them to. Even when she’s in the middle of a dance with Meg, who’s burn isn’t right. Whose laugh is contained and whose hands don’t fit when spinning out with a drawl. Stop.

She wants to be settled. 

She has stood up, sat down, watched her friends learn how to build a home, without her help. And it burns just this side of not right. How she feels she’s just watching them from the outskirts, left aside in their pursuit of what happiness should be. Stop. All she wants is for everything to stop, so she can breathe deep on an easy count of 4,3,2 release. 

And the words keep playing on a loop in her mind, never ending. “I’ll be damned if I don’t earn it.” She’ll be damned if she doesn’t earn it. Stop. And the three a days aren’t do anything but burn ideas into her head of championships, world cups and Olympic medals. Only she doesn’t find herself on the podium, but a blonde haired girl with a smile she wants tear from her lips. And it shouldn’t be like this.

She needs to stop, before disaster destroys them, and they’re left with nothing. She’ll destroy her, she’ll destroy what Kelley knows of the moment, and what it means to settle. She’ll destroy her, with her riotous acts, voice no louder than a whisper. And she promises not to destroy her at a breakfast out with Christen. When the morning was just ending, turning blue from orange, and she was still pretending that happiness can be found in settling. 

“Stop.” She spoke with such conviction, over glasses rimmed in shadow on the patio of their apartment complex. “Stop the game. Kelley it isn’t fair to keep her waiting while you figure out what you’re wanting. She’s too young to know what Seattle truly meant, and that you’re still hurting in trying to find what it means to build a home.”

And Christen Press has been the kind of friend to call when in need of a rescue, always stable. A beacon of what home could be even in the travel, of endless hotel beds, and delayed flights. She’s been the voice of reason, stood next to Tobin, an instigator in all crimes committed. But she can’t decide if what she says is out of concern, or if she knows of something of the unsaid they left between them. 

“I’m not doing anything Chris.” And she knows it a lie, even before she sighs the end. Holds it in, let’s it sit on the tip of her tongue like it’s tequila. “She’s a friend, and I wanted her opinion.”

“It’s more than that and you know it,” fears of what she can say next. Afraid of her actions and their repercussions. “Kelley this isn’t Seattle, she isn’t Hope, she isn’t Ann. And Meg is sweet, but if you can’t commit, then you need to stop it. Before they’re both hurt and you can’t fix it.”

And it hits like a hammer, breaking ribs and sternum, making her next breath burn like fire. Because she’s right, it isn’t fair, and she isn’t Hope, or Ann or Meg, and she deserves more than the scraps she can give while such a mess of confusion. But Kelley wants to be settled, is too impatient to wait, feeling left out of the lineup. What that means or looks like is something she needs to decide on. 

“How am I supposed to do that, Chris? Either way I’m going to hurt them,” and she knows it’s true, hates that it’s true, is afraid to admit the truth. “Either way I’m still stuck out on the outskirts, odd man out, unsettled.”

“That’s bullshit.” Christen Press is the person you call for a rescue, and the expletive causes her brow to rise in surprise, before she lets go a low whistle.

“I just got pretty Pressy to swear.” Almost laughs at the twitch of her lips, and this is why you call Christen for rescue.

“Still going strong with that nickname, you’d think you’d stop it by now.” Think that even with all of her charm, she’ll tell it to you straight. “Kelley, I know it’s not really my place to tell you anything but I’m worried... Seattle and Hope was a mess. You were a mess when that all happened, but you worked it out. And I know Ann wasn’t the end, that you weren’t ready for that. There’s nothing wrong with that, you did nothing wrong... and maybe Meg can be somebody to you... maybe all I can say is that, when I was with Vero it was never about being with her. I loved her, I did, I loved her so much, but it was never about being in love with her. Not when all I could think about was making the lineup, earning my spot, and that everything with Tobin was easier. And I know that when I figured it out... and she was with Shirley that it sucked to see it. To see her happy with somebody else who could give her everything. But what brought us together, even after all of that, was that I figured myself out.”

And if anyone ever says that Christen Press is soft, she’ll tell you that her words hit like punches, her promises like bruised beneath ribs. She’ll tell you that it shouldn’t be so easy to know that settled isn’t always happy. But decisions need to be made, and flirting with disaster will only destroy her. Hates to say that she reads her texts in between dancing with a placeholder. Hates to say that she knows she’s the placeholder, and that building a home means being vulnerable. But Christen Press doesn’t love easy, she stings like a bee, hitting hard enough to break her.

“And what if I do that and she isn’t it?” What if all this comes to an end and she’s left out cold on the outskirts. Watching everyone else grow old with each other, and she’s stuck in the past with the riot and ruckus. “What if after everything, Hope, Ann, Meg... Emily. I don’t find what I’m wanting?”

And she’ll say how her voice shakes, makes her feel smaller than her frame. That try as she might, there is no laughter, and the riot and ruckus she looks to distract her isn’t near enough for her to hold on to. And if she blinks, thinks her eyes are closer to honey, thinks what is she to make of the mess she can’t seem to shake?

“That’s a question you need to figure out alone.” Her voice has grown softer, but still they hit like thunder, rolling out beneath her ribs. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” And it’s a silly thought, that even when surrounded she feels alone, but the idea of home without someone is too intimidating. 

“When they broke up... even before that. Tobin has always told me everything, she told me everything I needed to hear and all she said was that she didn’t want a world where she didn’t know me. And I was so fucking scared to think that I’d never know her. Terrified that this would all end, and there’d be no more travel, no more hotel rooms... No more excuses to run when it got too real, and I’d be left floundering with what normal is.” She pauses to breathe, though her voice low and steady, she struggles to breathe like this is all too heavy. “I needed to know what I wanted to do, outside of all this, I needed to know what I liked to do, who I wanted to be... I needed her to know everything but me. Because... her and I? We were always certain, but everything outside of us, that was the chaos. So when they broke up, I knew I needed time to be sure that there would be no reason to run. And it hurt like hell, to know you love someone but not be ready for them... and she isn’t like Hope or Ann. There isn’t an ultimatum, between roaming free and staying to build a home. It’s about figuring of all that other stuff.”

And Kelley is smart, she’s invested wisely, took the sponsorships when offered. Started a business to build off the game, but the real world is still a mystery to her. And what her could be, working some 9-5, scares her more than not knowing she’ll start. And she’s envious of them for building some idea of home before the end. Thinks that she never wants it to end, always wants the World Cup, and Olympic medals. 

“So what you’re saying is that I need to be alone.” And it scares her to think of being alone when surrounded by people, when she’s grown up in hotel beds. Always ran from delayed flights to waiting cabs, watched them all settle into a life unknown. “What if I don’t know how to do that?”

And if you say that Christen press is soft, she’ll tell you it’s in her eyes that shine in the light. She’ll tell you it’s in her touch, she reaches across and holds your hand, firm but gentle in her grasp.

“You’ll figure it out... you didn’t get into Stanford just so you could play soccer.” Shell tell you that in the moment, everything seems so big, and that there is no sound but the thud of her pulse. She’ll tell you that it’s all too big, too overwhelming in its intensity. And if you said that Christen is soft, she’ll tell you how brave she is to sit so still in the quiet of the moment.

“Look at you Press... all grown up.” She’ll play their first meeting over and over. Think of how timid she stood, cowering in the corner of a dorm room, just 18, with life on the periphery. 

“Hey... you’re older.” And she’ll laugh it off, shake it from her head as Christen turns her cup to let her know it’s for her.

“Only by a few months... don’t forget I’ll never grow up, you can’t make me.” And she’ll shake it from her head, the thought that settled doesn’t mean happy. Play it off as a joke, returning to the role of hype woman. “You’re the married woman, I’m still the leader of the riot.”

“Frat daddy O’Hara, queen of the party.” And she’ll laugh it all off, keep it on the periphery. 

“You know it.” Think it’s still the same, sharing coffee on the patio of a placeholder to home. She’ll shake off the moment, think it’s all too heavy.

“On a side note, can you get the children to stop calling my dad sir? It confuses him and he’s starting to get a complex.” She’ll snort into her coffee, let the laughter rumble out from beneath her ribs. Think it’s all just too big for her to make a sound over a whisper. Think her voice is too hoarse to say all the things she’s keeping unsaid. 

“That’s all them, he’s kind of intimidating if you don’t know him.” And she’ll think back to the beginning, when she would call her for a rescue. Think back to the riots and ruckus of misdemeanours instigated, and how she always took the blame.

And if she’s quick to read the text coming in, how it says “I miss you.” If she scrolls through the thread she’s ignored to answered. She’ll say it’s all because she’s too nervous, waiting on the sideline, too restless to start. She’ll think to pause, breathe, and stop. Stop all the things before they lead to disaster, because she isn’t twenty-three and this isn’t Seattle. Remind herself that Emily is solid, always in wait with her hand extended. Promise herself she’ll try to keep pace even though they’re out of step. 

“I won’t be the one to tell him that, he’ll like it too much.” And she’ll try to hide her laughter, let it all go, as it shakes from her frame and relax into her answer that settled doesn’t always mean happy.


	6. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it’s a rhythm, breathed out on a count of 4,3, 2 release. So she started slow with a text that said “I just woke up.” Hoping to convey that her voice is what she’s thinking of. And it’s slow before it’s sudden, mapping out her day like it’s a way to guide them from the middle.

Kelley O’Hara has stopped all communication, but Emily sonnett is anything but not driven. And when she wants something she’s willing to put the work in, for patience is found in the work out of things unsaid. She’s used to sending texts to cause laughter, so it’s slow then sudden how she decides to map out all that’s she done. And they say that the walls have to crumble to let someone in, so it’s slow then it’s sudden. First with a text not meant to be funny, just a thought that runs rampant. And it’s weird how the words “I miss you” settle deep in the rhythm of her day. 

But it’s a rhythm, breathed out on a count of 4,3, 2 release. So she started slow with a text that said “I just woke up.” Hoping to convey that her voice is what she’s thinking of. And it’s slow before it’s sudden, mapping out her day like it’s a way to guide them from the middle. And Emily sonnett’s not sure of how it started, but the silence was deafening and she needed to step out of the middle if she wanted to prove she’ll earn her. So it started slow with a text of how she “just woke up.” Ended deep like a sigh of “I miss you.” And she’ll sleep when she’s earned all of what she deserves. Afraid it’s all to late since that moment when her eyes became guarded. But she’s a fool, has earned the title, and if it’s all for Kelley then she’ll earn the title. 

So she’s grown accustomed to mapping out her day, like it’s a way to guide them out of the middle. And if there’s no reply then she’ll start again, because walls have to crumble to let her in. And Emily’s not shy to let her know that even in the silence she’s more than willing to put the work in. So it’s starts slow with a text that she’s just woke up, and she hopes it conveys that it’s her voice she’s thinking of. Maps the register, counts the beats and sets to work out what it means to move from the middle of things ignored to now.

So to say she’s surprised to get a reply in the middle of lunch on a Thursday, just 5 weeks out of camp. She’ll play it all off like it’s her reward for the prank she plays to earn her laughter. So she’ll say the way her voice shakes is due to nerves growing at the word she uses. “Stop.” She’ll take pause and think it needs to start slow not sudden. But remind herself that it’s started. And if her hand shakes when she types out “I just miss you.” She’ll play it all off like it’s a prank with no pay off, just a moment meant to stave off the boredom of not knowing where she’s standing. Because she still plays the game of thinking about where she’s standing, what she’s doing. And is she still thinking of her while she’s does it all, because she can’t stop.

And if she told you that was the last time she drank, you’d know she is lying by her eyes sunken in. rimmed dark from restless nights thinking of how they danced face to face and how it to had mean something. She drank whiskey neat, followed it with shots of tequila, called to hear her voice, thought it practiced and above a whisper. She thinks of how their voices were too hoarse to speak above a whisper. And when there’s no reply, she’ll hold fast to the burn behind her eyes, and think it needs to start slow. 

If she stops to think, she’ll forget about the team dynamics, and how she might not want the answer. If she stopped to think she wouldn’t have asked her, voice just below a whisper. 

“The whole Shirley thing, how’d you know... how’d you know to let it go?” And she prays that Tobin doesn’t hear her above the laughter of a joke she’s not a part of. 

But Tobin is soft, eyes shifting from her phone to her face. And it’s the intimate moments that bring her to grace, when she talks of how her faith was tested. Her brow furrowed, head tilted as if in study of the moment, before she leans in close, covers hand that covers phone.

“When I realized I didn’t want to stay to work it out.” And the words are rough, but it’s the answer she’s given. 

Because it’s been five weeks out of camp and she knows she stayed to figure it out. But it all seems to be too much, the burn behind her eyes not right. So she let’s go a steady breath, doesn’t think to count it out. And she lets go the act of keeping her ingrained in her daily life, like it was a game meant to bring her closer. And she knows she earns what she deserves, but this is so close to disaster. So she stops, shakes it off before she can let it destroy her. 

“Em,” lets Lindsay call her away, and ignores the look in her eye. Like she is broken, and instead smiles weak, “lets go for a walk. I need a coffee.”

Squeezes back the hand on hers, daring a look to Tobin to let her leave. And she knows she loves her, knew it would end like this. She knows she’s in a relationship, thinks how she’s over stepped, knows they ignored it in the beginning. Redefined it from something possible to something in the middle, to now with her eyes turned guarded. 

“You coming tob’s?” And she thinks for the first time, that they’re more than out of step. 

That whatever chance they had has passed them years before, and that maybe it’s not their time. She thinks she’s afraid that they missed their time.

“No I’ve got to pick up Christen from the airport. I can give you a ride there if you want?” She thinks it’s said so casually, has become so ingrained into their everyday. Finds herself hoping that maybe in the next trade they’ll have it easier.

“I think we’re good walking.” And it’s the tone that Lindsay uses that makes Emily think, that the conversations just started, that their time has passed.

So she follows her slowly, leisurely in her pace, hoping to delay any burn behind her eyes. Thinks if they’re going to do this, she’s going to make her earn it. Finds them instead walking in silence, brushing shoulders as they walk side by side. Finds it nice to have someone to just walk side by side with. She lets her hold the door open, feels her phone buzzing in hand. But for once she doesn’t fight to read whatever message she was sent. Instead she orders automatic and moves, pausing to take hold, then shakes it from her head.

“Ready for camp?” It’s a casual question asked over and over, but its weight is heavy, so she just sighs and shrugs in answer. “Krieg’s said she’ll stop by for dinner some night. It’ll be cool to see them.”

Thinks of how the lineup has changed, how the constants she knew are now just passer by’s. Thinks how much has changed since the olympics, when they won a gold just barely. And she’ll tell you every minute she played, every conversation had while sitting on the bench. Tell you she’s not certain, but she hasn’t given up yet.

“Yeah, it’ll be good to see them.” And she’ll make Lindsay work for it, pull it from deep beneath her ribs. 

“Sonny...” she’ll hold it in, ignore her while she reaches for her coffee. “Let’s grab a table.” Follow her lead, ignore her phone in hand, think how it can destroy her. “I think you need to talk.”

She’ll mull the words over, laugh at how absurd it all sounds. When she’s been the one yelling out over the distance, she’s been the one trying to start the conversation. 

“About what?” And she’ll make her earn it, even if her voice is low and the words are thick. But it’s with a look from Lindsay, like she’s broken that lets slip the words. “I know what you think, that I’ve been waiting for her... and it’s not a stupid thing to do. To wait for her, but I know that I shouldn’t be. Not when she’s over there and not answering, but I don’t give up until the final whistle, you know that.”

“I know... but I also know that you don’t deserve this, and it shouldn’t be your focus right now.” If they avoid each other’s eyes, take note of how the coffee swirls, she’ll think her eyes are hazel. “You’ve avoided so much of what you can do, put so much focus in making sure she’s okay. That I, we, worry you won’t bounce back one day. That you’ll let it drown you, and I know she’ll never say it. But maybe what you need to do is let her go, if only for a while.”

If she stares at her with a scowl, dares her to continue, she’ll think it’s not what she wants to hear. But friendship is built in the hardships, when words are exchanged to rile the other up. Thinks their friendship was built in the riot, pushing each other to take just one more step. Thinks of how they fought, tooth and nail, to be here. 

“She told me to stop.” And if her voice breaks with the words, the burn growing in her chest, she’ll forget to shake it off. “She told to me to think about what it means to build a home. And I didn’t even get to say that I’ve always known what that means... but she won’t let me in.”

“Maybe that’s what she needs though, maybe she needs it to stop. And I don’t mean forever... it could just be what she needs now.” She’s knows the words are meant to sooth her, but they sit heavy in her chest. Thinks what is she, if not the fool for Kelley O’Hara?

“We leave for camp tomorrow... kind of a bad time to stop.” Thinks she’ll break at the sight of her, let it all destroy her. 

“You’ve got bigger things to worry about than her Em... You’ve got a roster to make, and a spot to earn if you ever want to be solid in the lineup... Becky’s retiring. She’s announcing it tomorrow.” Her focus should shift, her nerves should take over, but all it does is make her think that everything’s changing. “You promised me we’d do this all together, one more World Cup, one more Olympic medal... That’s the plan, you can’t let O’Hara destroy that.”

And she knows what she means, hears it in what she doesn’t say. That she can’t let this destroy her. But it’s a weakness to look at her reply, “I’ve missed you too.” Finds hope that this won’t destroy her, because the conversations just started. “But I need you to stop. Please Em, stop.”

So she refocuses the rage that all her hard work seems for nought. Let’s it soak in that she’s just a fool for O’Hara. Breathes out, and on a shaky count of 4,3,2 release, resets. And thinks that she can be someone else, someone other than just the fool for Kelley O’Hara. 

“Legends together, that’s the goal Horan.” Smiles weak and thinks she knows what she wants. Has never questioned the thought of what it means to be settled. Knows where her home stands, in the friendships she’s built inside the riotous acts of making the roster. “Nothing will stop that.”

Thinks that after every fault, and misdemeanour, she’s no longer in the middle. That maybe she’s ready to step out to the outskirts, stand side by side the people she thinks to call home. 

“Legends Sonnett, you and me, we’re going to be legends.” And she raises her cup, letting the dare hang in wait, of forgetting O’Hara and waiting for fate. For she’s done the work, waited patient and now, she gets what she deserves, nothing more and nothing less than that. So she takes the next step, pushed and shoved, by a pillar of home and accepts. 

“So says the great Horan.” Smirks wide at her scowl, and pretends she can do this. Hopes that tomorrow, her resolve won’t be destroyed that instead she’ll reset. Focus on being someone other than just a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This stories longer than I expected, but the pay off should hopefully be worth it.


	7. Destruction of mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex Morgan is one unwilling to admit she’s made mistakes. she’s unwilling to admit that she’s made mistakes in trying to experience missed steps.

Alex Morgan is one unwilling to admit she’s made mistakes. Even though she is proud to say she’s one of a hundred to be kicked out of Disney with a 4 week ban. she’s unwilling to admit that she’s made mistakes in trying to experience missed steps. Thinks that Kelley’s struggling to keep up only because the outside is chaotic. Because her ankle is sore, rolled in the first practice. And if you ask her why Sonnett seems so quiet? She’ll tell you she’s never seen her so focused, so determined. But that’s because Becky is retiring, and who doesn’t want to be the centre of their defence? 

And Alex Morgan doesn’t willingly admit mistakes, no she thinks this missed step can help them find their footing. The thing she can’t keep in, is the anger in their glances. Finds it beautiful the way they speak with passes, precise and hard. Like blows meant to bruise. If Kelley falters in her tests, finds it beautiful how she pushes past. And it may seem careless or cruel to find the beauty in their game, but she’s never seen them so determined to earn their spots in the line up. If there is anyone she’s willing to open up to, when the silence fills the room so loud, then it’s Tobin and Christen. 

“They’re playing reckless.” Mutters it over her food, thinks to glance in both of their directions as they sit divided by groups of people trying to protect them. “Kelley’s ankle won’t hold if she keeps pushing like she is and sonnett...” She stares at her small frame, sunken into the corner. “She’s never been this quiet before.”

“They’re working it out the only way we know how to. Leaving it all on the pitch.” And Tobin refuses to acknowledge that it’s not their game she’s referring to. “Al, let them work it out. It’s not up to us to tell them how to do this. We’ve meddled enough.”

Watches her lean into Christen’s side, laying head on shoulder to hide her yawn. And it burns in Alex’s throat that they’re all so ready to just play bystander. 

“Something needs to break... they’re going to break if they don’t stop.” Growls it into her glass, paying attention to stay below a whisper.

“What if that’s what they need?” Finds the wrong answer in Christen’s tone, like it’s a dare for her to just accept it. “What if that’s where their story goes? They’re not you and Serv or even Tobin and me. They’ve figured it all out, now they need to make it work... what that looks like is all theirs.” 

She doesn’t find her answer in them, doesn’t find it in Kelley either. Instead she plays bystander to the quiet way she sobs in bed, when no one can see how this is destroying her. Feels her head swim, when she wakes to find her missing. But knows enough not to question the way she sits in wait at breakfast. Plays ignorant to the way she walks aimless from practice to practice, room to room. Wonders how it’ll all break, when she see her cleats torn, her ankle tapped before breakfast.

And when she’s with the children, all somehow aged before her. She’ll think that Sonnett’s just a little quieter, sunken in the corner. And when they call for adventure, she’ll ignore the way she leaves, with running shoes tied. If it reminds her of someone else just a few years younger. She’ll shake it from her head and ignore it. Think if she isn’t careful, she’ll break, and need a rescue.

And in the in-between of playing bystander, she’ll stop to think if it’s the right question. Pause before she speaks, “Lindsay, she hasn’t been doing this all camp has she?”

“Every night.” And hate the answer. 

“I think I made a mistake... pushed Kelley to far that night.” Hate the taste of the words, bitter and too thick to swallow.

“You didn’t push her to anywhere they weren’t going.” Pause to study the Mal says it, under arm of Sam, hand linked with Rose. Think that they move with a certainty beyond her.

“You don’t have to worry about Emily, we’ve got her.” Look to Lindsay, and the tone in her voice like she’ll destroy her. Watch how they nod with certainty that they’ll destroy her if she miss steps. Laughs at they protect her, with a seriousness she’s never felt before. “We map her route, call her back before she gets too far.”

And she’ll laugh it out, how similar it all feels. Thinks back to a time they did the same, how she felt she’d destroy her if it didn’t stop. But how the roles have reversed, and she hates to think of the ways this could go. Let’s it sit, heavy in her chest, as she follows suit to some shop just a few streets around the corner. Let’s herself settle into their chatter, take note of the phone in the centre, blue dot moving farther away. 

“So how’re you tracking her?” Forget whatever joke is being said, let them share glances before they shrug it off and Rose says.

“We got a family plan a couple years ago, then we shared our locations with each other... you know in case someone gets lost.” Tries to hold the laugh in as she glances at Sam. 

“That happened one time.” Lets the fight happen, as they tangle under and over limbs with Lindsay stealing bites, “Hey that’s my ice cream.”

Leans back from their laughter, and thinks it reminds her of when she was younger. Tries to count the ways in which it changed, notes how they all moved into something a little calmer. And if she loses time remembering, she’ll try to shake it off. If she loses time remembering Seattle, ties knots and links dots to the way it’s similar. She’ll let it sit heavy in her chest, shake it from her head and focus on their banter. 

“Ew Sam why did you get tiger? That’s such an old person flavour!” Watch how they sit, closer than ever, stealing bites from each other’s cones. Taking turns to keep watch over the blue dot that’s seemed to have turned a corner.

“It’s not that bad! Call Sonnett she’ll agree with me.” And if she’s measured her steps, calculated the distance, she’ll know it’s their way of calling her back. Hold her breath in time to the rings, count out 4,3,2... “Emily tell them tiger ice cream isn’t that bad.”

“What?” Listens to her breath, ragged and heavy. 

“Don’t agree with her! Sam’s trying to justify her old people taste again.” Think it odd how Mal seems the wiser of the group as she catches her gaze, brow furrowed in strange contemplation. Turns away to let Rose yell louder. “Ouch, that hurt! Sonny come save me!”

Thinks she hears a sniffle through the crackle of the phone, takes note of Lindsay’s hands turning white on the corner of the table. 

“Okay...” And she knows then that she hears a sniffle, her voice thick through the crackle. “The room-.”

“-We’ll be there in ten, fifteen if you want ice cream.” Watches how their eyes take turns turning guarded from looks that say they’ll destroy her.

“Yeah... please.” And it’s quieter as they move, Mal standing to order. And Alex remembers standing guard in Seattle, on one side of Kelley, with Tobin across from her. “... I’m tired Lind’s.”

“Chris will be there in ten, just wait for her okay?” Watches how she turns away, voice growing softer, and for once it’s not because it’s hoarse from the riot. “No she’s out with Tobin... they have a van... I’ll meet you in the room.” Meets her gaze, watches the hurt turn to murder. “Alone, I promise... no one but us... that doesn’t matter... we’ll still be legends Sonnett.”

And the words are too intimate, broken in their pattern, spoken just under a whisper, the walk so much quieter. The thoughts play round her head, weaving in and out of knots. And she knows she’s made mistakes, fears her next missed step. For it’s not the quiet that disturbs her, but the anger in their steps, marching to stop disaster. Prays she can be more than just a bystander, but finds her words lost when she sees her in the lobby. Her cleats all torn up, ankle tapped, and phone in hand, waiting by the elevator. 

And maybe Emily runs, but Kelley sprints, with a ball at her feet. Maybe Emily has built a home in the riot and Kelley feels lost moving from all of the others. Maybe it’s everything, chaotic and disordered that makes her stop before the doors. Watch her stare at her phone, reading text after text, that she thinks if it’s a mistake, it’s the least she can do. If she jumps at the sound of a van door slamming shut, turn to see her watch her. She’ll think it could be a mistake, but she’s already made so many.

“They broke up... just before camp.” Trace the lines of her face, the set to her jaw, doesn’t try to catch her eye. Just let’s Christen take her hand, pull her along, leaves the children to comfort her. 

“Thought we agreed to let them be?” And if Tobin’s voice is harsh, it’s because she knows the mistake. “And they say I’m the instigator.”

“Did you find where she goes?” Alex Morgan is never willing to admit when she’s wrong, she owns her mistakes and works hard to fix them. She never missed steps on her way to build a home, but oh how’s she missed steps in taking care of O’Hara. 

“There’s a field about a mile out.” And she knows of her devotion, tracking balls only to roll them back. Knows how she counts from the stands, sending texts to mark her exhaustion. 

“Is this really what you thinks she needs?” If anyone ever asks about the type of friend that Tobin Heath is, she’ll tell you she’s devoted. “What if this destroys her?”

Let’s her silence be her answer as they part ways at the elevator. It’s the anger in her chest, clawing beneath ribs that concerns her. Alex Morgan may be unwilling to admit her mistakes, determined to fix them, works hard to keep her composure. But it’s the anger of their situation, too similar for good taste, that sits heavy in her chest, clawing beneath ribs. It’s the anger that stops her, key in hand, door ajar. It’s the sound of something thrown, the thud against wall, that stops her. Reminds herself, that she’s meant to occupy her from disaster. So she takes a deep breath, pushes into the room. Stops at the sight of her, traces the lines of her small frame and wishes for her laughter. 

“What do you need me to do?” Finds her voice betraying her, softer than the anger. 

And when there’s no answer, she swallows the yell, holds it in, before carrying on with her routine. Leaving her to sit in the destruction of a crime more than a misdemeanour. Loses time to the acts of getting ready for bed, lays in the silence, too afraid to breathe deep in case it disturbs her. Finds her mind turning numb, when she hears her speak above a whisper.

“How do I fix this?” Think her voice is too hoarse from all the tears that she’s shed, but she’s owed what she’s earned. 

“Let her in.” 

And she falls into sleep with the thought that what Kelley needs is to let it destroy her. Remembers how fast she rose from the rubble of walls crumbled, foundations cracked. She dreams of Seattle, when they were just as young, running through the streets when Kelley found her laughter again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back sooner than expected, but it’s due to the fact I’ll be busy the next few days.


	8. What lead to this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelley can tell you Emily’s schedule as well as her own. She can tell you that she is a deceptively early riser.

Kelley can tell you Emily’s schedule as well as her own. She can tell you that she is a deceptively early riser. Likes to think she is slow to get up, languid in her stretches. More apt to lay in bed then jump straight into the day. She’ll tell you that she never rushes to make breakfast, just hums along to whatever song is playing. 

She’ll tell you she learned the first bit, in emily’s third camp, when they first shared a hotel room. She’ll tell you she isn’t sure of the rest, but feels it’s more accurate than not. She’ll never stop to ask for clarification from those who are certain of Emily’s morning acts. But she’ll deduce it from the texts, calculate the time between her waking up and sitting down to eat.

Kelley will tell you that Emily is never truly alone, always off with someone either running amok or just sharing the same quiet. She’ll tell you she’s never really alone, but knows that she meditates before bed. Reads by lamp light, that she assumes has a timer, due to the lapse between whatever the title is and what sounds like a mumbled good night. Imagines that more often then not, she falls asleep with book on her chest, light ticking down. Only wakes to say good night. 

She’ll tell you that the in between of those two texts, are spent trying to get better. Whether through lunches with friends, morning walks to explore the city, or afternoons on the pitch. She’s never very far from a ball, always waiting for a fix of her blood pulsing. Mind always racing with thoughts of strategy, quick feet and knowing when to attack. She’ll tell you she’s always ready for a game, whether with the neighbourhood kids or at practice. 

Kelley will tell you she learned all of this while fighting with herself. Lost in thought of how to break a heart, uncertain of which one it would be. She’ll tell you that in the end, the decision came easy, that settled doesn’t mean happy. And if she thought that it would take her to her, arms open and words spilling out. She’ll tell you that it’s heavy in her chest, the way the words seem stuck, and her mind overrun. 

She’ll tell you that she can place where Emily will be on a Tuesday afternoon or Sunday morning. She’ll tell you that after reading and re-reading all those texts, she can say she’s thought of how she’d fit. Thinks that she can learn to be quiet when she wakes up, that she loves to cook with music in the background. Find it calming to start the day so languid, like there is no rush to the end. 

She thinks of sharing books, wonders her thoughts on what type she favours. Wants to know the lilt of her voice when reading, how she’ll drawl out words. Hold them on tongue before letting them rush out. Wants to know the softness of her falling asleep, find out if the book falls or is placed on her chest. She thinks she can be careful to not lose her place, be gentle in putting it away. Kiss soft to the crown of her hair, turn the light off, learn the lines of her silhouette before giving in to sleep.

She thinks of all these things, runs them round and round, over and under each. Let’s them soak into her veins and clothes while sprinting the length of the field. Takes comfort in the thwack of the ball, the burn in her muscles. And she wants all these things, fears she’d stepped over what could be easy. Hates how it burns, tries to untie whatever knot she’s woven in her chest. 

And she knows of their stares, ignores the looks, just keeps the pace of sprinting. Just keeps pace to the thoughts, and she knows it’s all just a fairytale she’s written in sweat. All alone on a pitch, with no lights set, left alone to work it all out. But Kelley’s diligent in her thoughts, rambunctious in her actions, ignorant of the pain in her ankle. She thinks of how very wrong it can all go. 

Thinks of cluttered counters and no milk left for coffee. She thinks of nights turned away, and the way she taps her foot in agitation. She thinks of how her words could sting, in missed calls, late returns and nights spent away. Thinks of all the people warring for her attention, that the riot and ruckus could always win out. She thinks of the team dynamic, the distance between seasons and camp. She thinks there are so many obligations until suddenly there’s not. Thinks of how she would be home, solid in her schedule while she roams from delayed flights to hotel rooms. Thinks she’s spent her whole life training, sprinting from line to line, pushing past to the last step. 

If someone were to ask her, if she’s found Emily to be too quiet. She’ll say it’s all out of focus, and if you ask her if she’s worried. She’ll say she knows when to turn home, that’s it all done in agitation. Think to keep it to herself, the way she notices her eyes sunken in, rimmed dark from not sleeping. Will hold it all in, how her frame seems too small, and that this all seems too familiar. But she’ll justify the distance by thinking she’s not Hope and this isn’t Seattle. Keep it to herself that she cries herself to exhaustion, runs the thoughts out, and revels in the exhaustion.

And when it’s game day? She’ll only nod at the lineup, think she’s earned her start. Feel too safe with her behind her and if she plays too reckless, taking one too many steps, sliding faster than she attacks. She’ll says it’s out of anger... think their words exchanged are too clipped and driven. No chance for laughter, so she hits in bruising blows. And if she slides faster than attacks, takes a cleat to the ribs and is pulled from the sidelines. She’ll say it’s all out of anger, that everything’s her fault. 

And it’s all she sees, the colour red, their words all muted to her pulse racing. Reads it in their looks, shrugs off their touches, storms to the locker room. If she throws her cleats, rips apart her locker, stops to stand, breath ragged. She’ll know the feel of her glare on her shoulders, know it’s her with the way her stomach sinks. If she stares back, angry, she’ll want to say it’s not her fault. That she was just too scared to admit it so she ignored it, thinking it would all be fine to think of her as no more than friend. But she’s tired of pretending, and settled wasn’t happy, and she thinks their definition of home doesn’t fit. 

She’ll think to herself that her eyes seemed dark and guarded, no hint of anger. Her frame too small, her lines of her face much sharper. Think she wants all of her anger, wants her touch to leave bruises because she deserves it. If they move to the middle, in hurried but certain steps, she’ll say it’s all out of anger. Feel it build into the riotous act of reaching for her. Think her voice is too hoarse to speak it. So she’ll breathe deep just to know her perfume, the exact flower of her shampoo. 

Takes breath after shaky breath against heart beating soft but steady beneath her sternum. Think it all feels so unsettled in her arms, but it’s the riot she’s craved, a chaos she knows. And it’s the kiss Emily lays soft on the crown of her hair that breaks her. Finds her arms safe, the sway a comfort, and thinks this is home. 

Wonders just how long they have, to keep everything in here unsaid from those on the outskirts. And she wants to say sorry, form it in words she’s always wanted to speak. Finds her voice too hoarse to speak above a whisper.

“I love you.” I love you, I love you, I love you, repeats like a prayer, on a count of 4,3,2, release. “I love you.” Hears how her voice breaks, a crack running deep from wall to foundation. 

“I know.” Think it means more, knows it too much for her to ask her to say it back. “I’ve always known I love you.”

And it’s the way they sway slow, pulses muting out the riot, that they find a sense of home. But the thing about them is they’re always just out of step, racing to keep pace, thinking that has to mean something. So she says it with a kiss to her shoulder, hands gripping hard, and shutters out with a drawl.

“Let me earn this... I need to earn this, please.” Clings tighter at the shiver her breath on her neck tears out of her. “Just let me earn us, Emily.”

Hopes she hears the promise that it’ll all work out, and she wants to be what she deserves.

“Okay...” And if her voice shakes out on a sigh, breaks above a whisper, she’ll say it’s because of the riot. “Okay miss Kelley.”

If they hold each other tighter, swaying just slightly, Kelley would say how much she’s missed the riot. Her heart beating harder and harder against her sternum, pulse racing, muting out what surrounds them. Thinks it’s all lead to this.


	9. Earn it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily knows of very few things for certain, but she knows it’s a fact that she loves her. The way she mutters it into her chest, pulling her closer, and they think how they could never not want this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I feel it’s come to an end

Emily knows of very few things for certain, but she knows it’s a fact that she loves her. Let’s it sink in under ribs, hit soft against her sternum. After being torn apart in the locker room, rudely interrupted by Lindsay yelling a warning. She’ll tell you they were no longer in the middle, that it’s all shifted, unspecific, but oh how she loves it. She wants to say they talked it all out, but words were never their strong point. They’re more prone to the gimmick of swaying in the middle of all riotous acts. Wanted to stay by her side, cling to her hand, just to know what her perfume is. 

Instead she laid in bed, mind racing with all of the things they never said. Until the knock came soft and her heart beat doubled. Padded out slow, sure to be quiet, forgot everything, in order to get to her faster. Stepped out into her embrace, swears she felt her heart beat double, shivered at the breath on her neck. thought she could never not want this. Let her mind roam, soft and slow until it’s sudden with the way her lips burn against her collarbone. Her thoughts were slow and soft, dreamy in the thought of standing like this forever. Until the thoughts come, wild and not contained, of kissing her sudden. 

Reminds herself that they need to start slow, before it all falls due to some missed step. Thinks how she wants none of it to be sudden. Wants to know it all, her laugh, her smile, her tears. Finds herself too afraid it’ll end too sudden. Thinks Kelley feels it too, hears it in her sigh, feels it as she pulls her closer. 

“I just missed you.” The way she mutters it into her chest, pulling her closer, and they think how they could never not want this.

“I’ve missed you,” says it like an absolution, shrugging off the silence. Thinks for a second that she gets it. How this could be so overwhelming. Riotous in its feelings, of hearts beating double, but soft against sternums, settling beneath ribs, near calming. And she’ll lay slow a kiss, little more than lips pressing skin, to the crown of her hair. Breathe deep, and think that her drawl is more pronounced when tired. “I’ve missed you so fucking much Kelley.”

Cling to her tighter, not wanting to be any farther away from her, sink deep into her touch. Emily thinks that she’s never been confused in knowing what home is, never felt unsettled. Finds comfort in the riot and ruckus, and knows, this is all that she’s ever wanted. 

“Don’t leave me.” Feels her heart break when she says it, thinks the thought too wild. “Don’t let go... just... stay.” Wants to laugh at the idea of how someone could ever leave her. 

Instead she just holds her tighter, mind racing with how loud this moment is. how it means so much. And she knows she should be so angry, should thrash and push, keep her out of reach, but she’s just so tired. Has waited too long to prolong her reward any longer. Questions quickly, if she deserves it, but shakes it from her head and pulls her closer.

“I don’t think I brought my key out.” Hopes it’ll make her laugh, feels her heart beating double at her smile curving soft against her neck. “So you’re kind of stuck with me.” Thinks she loves to play the fool for Kelley O’Hara. 

And if they jump, holding closer before pulling apart at the soft sound of someone clearing their throat. They’ll swear it’s not embarrassing, to be caught while lost to the moment by Tobin Heath of all people. Her eyes tired, head turned as if in study of their faces. A smirk hidden in the corner of her mouth. If they think they should say something, deny or avoid the conversation. Tobin’s hand extended will shut that all down, leave them both confused when she places a key in Kelley’s hand then squeezes her shoulder. Watch her push past, muttering soft under breath.

“Glad you figured it out.” See how she knocks once, pauses then knocks twice a little harder. Smiling tired at Christen’s answer, tracing the lines of her face. “Hello wife.”

Pushes in, hand on her hip, like it’s so casual. Leaving them alone to the moment, so loud it’s doesn’t make a whimper. And Emily will turn at Kelley’s hand finding her own, fingers spread to fit against her palm. Let her pull her close, lead her away, fighting the laugh growing up into her throat before breaking out.

“How the hell did Tobin figure this out before us?” Think to memorize the easy way she holds the words on her tongue before letting them slip out in a drawl that washes over them like perfume. 

Emily sonnett will tell you that Kelley O’Hara gives her whiplash when she pushes her onto the bed, tangles their limbs with her head on her chest. She will try to explain the weight of her as it sinks deep into her chest, wonders if she hears her heart beat double. And she’s wondered what it would be like to fall asleep holding her, thought it would be slow then sudden how her breaths even out. Knows they should start slow, but finds her hands learning the lines of her body. Thinks she’ll lay still so not to disturb her, and it’s slow then sudden when she falls asleep, only minutes later. 

Emily will say that it’s slow then sudden how fast Kelley becomes apart of her routine. Wakes to texts saying goodnight, smiles at the fast reply of “I bet you look cute when you first wake up.” Learn her voice through phone calls, memorize everything about it when voices are too hoarse to speak above a whisper. Emily will smile when she wakes to eyes the colour of honey tracing the lines of her face. Sigh deep at her touch, letting her draw lips then nose then eyes with her finger tips. She’ll learn the beat of her heart, with her head on her chest. And when they first kiss, it’s to tear the smile from her lips. 

She’ll tell everyone that while Kelley sprints the lines of the field, she runs out of step behind her, fights to keep pace. She’ll focus on measuring out the ratio of milk to coffee. Smile too wide when she plates their meals, humming along just as loudly to the song in the background. And she may never have questioned the idea of home, but thinks it’s nice to share her address when in Georgia. And if the trade comes, and she moves to Utah. She’ll promise her couch to the kids, promise they’ll behave, that all their crimes are just misdemeanours. She’ll even take the blame when she sees the look in Tobin’s eye, call her instigator.

And if she was a fool for Kelley O’Hara before, she’ll admit that it’s nice how she’ll laugh just to satisfy her. If asked if she earned it, she’ll speak low of all the things she’s learned about her. That she shrugs off sweaters to warm her, pulls her closer to keep her from shivering. She’ll tell you that she places hands on hips, kisses with the burn of tequila, tears smiles from lips. She’ll tell you she lets her meditate alone, crawls in quiet while she reads. Kisses gentle the crown of her hair, and places her book on end tables with a bookmark she made to make her laugh. 

She’ll tell you how her eyes narrow when annoyed or irritated, and apparently there is difference between that two. That if Emily is going too far, she’ll tug on the sleeve of her shirt, with eye brow raised. And she’ll let slip that they fought with the idea that quiet doesn’t always mean angry. Forced conversations when frustrated, yelled too loud and learned who’d break first in a staring contest. But they fought to keep pace, refused to sleep still angry. every fight ending in an embrace close to dancing, arms holding each other tight swaying within a step. 

She’ll say they’ve planned trips around the world, in between seasons and camps. Let’s Kelley show her Costa Rica, takes her across Argentina. They miss the sights of Rome, locked away in a hotel room, newly bold in their relationship. They’ve made plans for their backyard, thought peonies off the porch, raspberries along the perimeter. Searched for a year while Kelley flirts with the idea of retirement, calls her in the middle of practice, car stopped in the street. Takes her to the hospital for stitches, refuses to explain her black eye. Almost sleeps on the couch when she makes the joke of Kelley’s right hook.

They play host to random teammates passing through, make family dinners on Saturday’s. House Tobin and Christen during their renovations and move. Has grown used to waking up with Alex in between them every weekend she visits. Takes the scolding when she kicks Lindsay, pushes Rose and rolls Sam out of bed. Both skirt the subject of weddings as their mothers take over the kitchen.

Emily question’s Tobin, runs through a list of why they should. Wakes to Kelley too close for the hour, face serious. “I don’t need to get married, I just want to know you’ll still be here in ten years.”

Growl out an a reply. “Goddamnit Tobin.”

“Christen told me.” Push her away to sit up.

“Goddamnit Tobin, why’d she have to tell Christen?” Tries to wake up. “So... ten years huh?”

“Eh more or less.” Watch her play with the blanket, think the sun catches her freckles. 

“Well... I mean I doubt the house would appreciate enough by then.” Pull her hand to her chest, let her feel how her heart beat doubles. “I’m in this forever.”

“I don’t want you to think we need to... I used to think it was something I was supposed to do. But I don’t know.” Flex’s her fingers against her sternum, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. “I don’t feel like I’m supposed to do anything more than just love you.”

And they’ll sit thinking of everything it took them to get here. Think of the riot and ruckus, how they fought to keep pace always just out of step with each other. Started slow then sudden, voices too hoarse to speak above a whisper. Always in the middle, hyping up the game, pretending that settled was happy. And she thinks that she could never not want this. 

“So love me and I’ll love you.” Kisses her slow and steady, lays in bed with her head on her chest.

Thinks of what she could have done to deserve this. Only rising to spin her with a drawl in the kitchen, humming along too loudly to the song playing. Thinks she plays a fool for her, but oh how the laugh is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this whole writing thing might turn into a problem...


End file.
